And I was so full of good intentions
Some days you stride forward.
Some days you stay still.
Some days you must walk away.
I woke today full of good intention.
I reached my desk with a clear mind.
Then a shadow fell.
A conversation yesterday came back and I heard it differently.
I wondered whether I was repeating a pattern I promised myself I’d never again repeat.
Self-doubt settled on my shoulder like a one-eyed raven with a harshly mocking voice.
My list of tasks seemed suddenly like a walk of shame I was forcing myself to endure.
Self-doubt shape-shifted to frustration then self-loathing then paralysis.
There’s darkness beyond the circle of light and from that darkness much good can come.
Because I know darkness, I can walk in empathy with people lost in their own darkness.
Because I’ve always lived outside the comfort of a career-path, I know the fear when you feel entirely lost.
Because I’ve made mistakes I hold space for those I coach and mentor who also have made, or fear they’re about to make, mistakes.
From my lived fears and doubts come my strenghts.
That doesn’t stop them, at times, from overwhelming me.
The darkness is still dark.
The fears and doubts are still cruel.
The raven mocks me.
Though I know how to travel dark paths, knowing and doing are different. Just because I know the route, doesn’t mean I don’t have to walk the walk, place one foot in front of another and walk the journey I so gently describe to clients.
When darkness comes to me, I must still find my way through.
I don’t coach because I once knew darkness but now live in permanent light.
I coach because I have known, still know, darkness. I know the sense of being lost. I’ve experience of living lost and in despair. That’s the experience I bring to those I work with.
Yet still. Some days the mountain seems too steep to climb.
Walk away.
Today, I got up from my desk and retreated to a different me.
I played the piano.
I painted.
I waited for the clouds to pass and the sun, once more (as it more frequently does these days) to break through.
Making music no one will hear.
Drawing pictures (almost) no one will see.
Remembering to smile.
Breathing.
That’s what some days are for.
They may not be easy, but they’re precious.
After thirty years performing, directing and teaching around the world, now I coach and mentor artists and others to live in joy and creativity. I also still perform sometimes, but usually keep my clothes on.
I recently published a free training ‘How to make BIG decisions when you feel really stuck’. It’s a PDF and video. Get your copy here.
More information about me here: www.johnbritton.co
Email: [email protected]